Dishes
by DebbieB
Summary: Petunia washes dishes. Written for the HP Gen Challenge Spring Challenge.


Vernon didn't understand how magic worked. He didn't understand, as she did, how it could never really be avoided once it had claimed your family. She knew that no-one could run from magic." She could feel it as she scrubbed the dishes, fancy china from Sunday brunch with Vernon's supervisor. It had been a fantastic success, a lovely lamb roast with mint jelly and perfectly executed pudding for desert. It had been a rousing good time, even though the rain had destroyed the plans for an afternoon round of golf. And still, she felt it.

She could feel it as the men laughed in the parlor, telling jokes and chatting about business, never missing her as she cleared out the luncheon dishes and retired to the kitchen. They never did, actually. She made it a point to slip out unnoticed, never dreaming of sitting there with them, making small talk like other wives sometimes did.

She could feel it coming, as she had for seven years in childhood, and as she had each year since just before Harry's eleventh birthday.

It was getting closer. Spring was coming, and that could only mean one thing.

The boys would be returning soon.

Petunia Dursley had never thought of herself as one of those women who would send her children off each year. As a young wife, a soon-to-be mother, she'd looked with scorn upon those women who sent their children off to boarding schools. How could they? What sort of mothers would let their child be raised by strangers, several months out of the year?

Now, as the trees began to push forward blossoms in spite of the drizzly chilling Sunday afternoon, Petunia realized that she had become one of those women.

Happily. Gladly. Mercifully.

Every year Harry was at That School, and Dudley was off at Smeltings, Petunia felt a greater sense of relief as summer ended. Summer gone, and another reprieve from the chaos that ensued when they were home. Summer gone, and a return to that illusion of normalcy she and Vernon struggled so hard to maintain.

…dinners with friends.

…cinema dates on Friday nights.

…household projects done together, like normal, happy couples.

She also felt a greater dread as winter died and spring heralded the return of…The Boys.

It's not that she didn't love them. Well, she did. So there, it was said and done, even if only in her mind. She loved them—both of them. Dudders, with his spirited ways and charm, was her baby, the one she'd carried for nine months, terrified and amazed at the miracle in which she was participating.

And Harry. Quiet, odd, strangely mesmerizing Harry.

She hated to admit it, but The Boy was more like she'd been as a child than he was like his mother. Lily had been outgoing, talkative, brave. Harry was more withdrawn, looking more than speaking, just as she herself had been.

And as guilty as she was in the creation of the situation that caused The Boy's withdrawal, she had to admit she liked it. When they were alone, when Vernon took Dudders out for a lark and left them alone, he could actually be almost pleasant. Not in an interactive way, but an almost comfortable silence would arise between them.

She enjoyed silence. And to herself, when no-one was around, she had to admit she enjoyed Harry's company. With Vernon and Dudley away, he was a well-behaved boy. They didn't talk, of course, nor did they really do anything together. But he was comfortable, when he wasn't antagonizing Vernon.

But these days, she found herself dreading the coming of spring. With the end of the school year came the inevitable return of Harry and Dudley, the unavoidable blowups which grew more frequent and disturbing each summer as Harry got bolder and Vernon got more frightened.

Petunia scrubbed fiercely at a gravy stain on her nice wedding china plate. She hated what she saw each summer. Vernon, her strong, brave Vernon, growing more and more cowardly. It was magic, yes. It was dangerous, of course.

Vernon hadn't lost his family to magic. Vernon hadn't seen first-hand what could happen when magic attacked you. Vernon was a second-hand, no third-hand victim of magic, yet he acted as if he himself had seen the sickly glow of green magical light.

No, she wouldn't think about that. It was years gone, in the past. She couldn't even be sure it had actually happened.

Her parents were killed in a car accident.

That's what the authorities said, and by god that's what she was going to remember.

No matter what her dreams told her.

Vernon had no idea what afraid could be. Dementors in Surrey. She'd known as soon as she'd seen him that Dudley had been touched. She could still feel the dreams of floating black shrouds, of unescapable doom, of feelign nothing would ever bee good or right or safe again.

Petunia fought a wave of disgust at her husband. She could hear his laughter in the other room, boisterous and ribauld. How dare he fear magic? He didn't know magic at all.

Her parents were killed in a car accident.

Vernon didn't understand how magic worked. He didn't understand, as she did, how it could never really be avoided once it had claimed your family. She knew that no-one could run from magic.

As if tossing The Boy out on his ear would change anything now.

As if the Howler from The Old Man had been necessary.

She needed no reminder of her promise. Of the Devil's Deal she'd made to protect what was left of her sister's family, and to protect her own family.

He was off on his own, learning magic, making friends, having adventures.

Just like Lily did, for seven long years.

Adventures Petunia never shared, never could share. Adventures that changed her, transformed her from a beloved sister to a stranger with a wand. Adventures that eventually killed her.

As they would no doubt someday killed Lily's son.

Petunia scrubbed hard at the stain. It came off on her sponge, leaving no trace on the lovely plate that it had ever even been there.

She hated spring.


End file.
